The Ugandan Loop, Part II

Without too much further ado, here is The Ugandan Loop, Part II.

These images cover Days 4-6: from Kalunga to Katakwi. It was only two days worth of riding, plus a rest day in Katakwi. The mud-related wipeout and stuck-in-the-mud events happened on Day 4 and Day 5 respectively. Further details are in the image captions, as usual.

Enjoy.

—jim

A morning of glorious weather on the route from Kalunga to Karenga.
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I kept seeing these neat bundles everywhere along the side of the road. Inside are sticks of wood which have been slowly burned down to make charcoal--a completely different process than I encountered in The Gambia. I saw a bunch of folks sitting under a communal tree near this set, and so...
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...I stopped and sat with them for about an hour. They explained that these bags--and all the corn and millet and sim-sim (sesame) they've grown and harvested are just sitting by the roadside while they wait for certain trucks to drive by that can take them and their goods into town (for a small fee, of course). The problem is that the trucks come irregularly and unpredictably--when they come at all.
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After I took photos of the roadside goods, suddenly the kids wanted photos--and everyone else decided it would be OK if I shot them, too.
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My favorite of the bunch. Lots of young kids have never seen a muzungu, and they cry if I get too close. It's also funny for their parents (or older siblings)--who find their reaction to be hilarious. As pictured here, obviously. 😉
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After all my years thriving and surviving due to the kindness of strangers, I make small payments against my karmic debt when I can. With a motorcycle, I was able to give folks rides between villages--sometimes multiple times a day. This guy needed to get his stick into Karenga, and so I drove him all the way there.
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Members of the Uganda National Police force--on duty at the Karenga Cultural Festival, which saw thousands of Ugandans gathering together over the course of a week to strut their various cultural stuffs. The region has had trouble in the past (about 10 years ago was the height of it), and so the police make a big show of it whenever there's a big event. These guys were happy to pose for me once their "Big Boss" rode past and was out of sight.
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Looking the other way from the police in the previous pic, this was my view into the general area of Kidepo National Park. You can imagine how happy I was to see the sky dumping loads of water directly on my route. That route, which was still relatively dusty and easy to ride, became a Slip-n-Slide over the course of minutes. This particular mud has metaphysical, supernatural properties and several miles later I found myself sliding on my a$$ at about 30kph, landing in a big puddle and completely soaked in orange mud-water. It was at that point the National Police (or the Ugandan Peoples Defense Force--I'm no longer certain) stopped and insisted on toting me and my motorcycle as far as the next village. Beyond the rain.
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The looong ride on Day 5 along the Kenya border, more or less. Just endless dusty roads, almost no traffic, and gorgeous scenery. It absolutely felt like I was on my own in a stereotypical African tableau.
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That road led me briefly through a corner of the Matheniko Game Reserve, where mud event #2 took place. Here. At this innocuous-looking puddle. Instead of riding through it (the right move), I thought I'd skirt it. What looked like solid, barely moist mud along the edge was actually calf-deep. I made it about two meters in and the bike was stuck. I stepped in and the mud immediately sucked my shoes right off of my feet as I tried to free the motorcycle. No luck. I had to dig out my shoes, ditch my socks, and give it another go in bare feet. Better, but still futile. Not long later (15-20 minutes tops) two cars came by in caravan. They stopped, and four of us together managed to free the bike and ride it--VERY EASILY--through the not-deep puddle I had tried to avoid. Lesson learned.
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This was after I had removed my socks and kicked off a great deal of the mud. The amazing thing is that the mud wasn't THAT deep (as you can see), but supernaturally viscous. Just insane.
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On a positive note, only a couple of kilometers later I saw a large group of men sitting under a huge, beautiful shade tree. I circled back and joined them. Not one of them spoke English and most had the thin sticks and small yo-yo like wooden devices they use (at the very least) as seats. We communicated as best we could while I tried to rest a bit out of the midday sun. But then...
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Another guy rode up on an ancient bicycle with three jerrycans lashed to it. He spoke a bit of English, so I could now speak with everyone a little. Turns out the cyclist's function was to sell the local millet-based homebrew, which the jerrycans were full of. The gentlemen asked if I would buy them a round, so to speak. I paid for 5 liters at 1000/= per liter (about $1.50US, currently) and we sat under the tree passing the very refreshing libation from man to man.
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...like so. It was a fantastic experience of a totally random and totally typical nature.
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...and we drank until the 5 liters were exhausted. (It's a very mild concoction, so don't worry about anything on that front.)
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And then I set off for many more kilometers of the same before hitting the highway near a city named Moroto.
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I ended the day at a small guest accommodation in Katakwi--on the highway near Lake Bisina. It was so pleasant (and I was so exhausted) I decided to take the next day off. This is Akello, whose restaurant I ate at both evenings: my new standard of rice and goat's meat.
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Esther--the guest house manager--and her charming mother.
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The Transglobalist
Photographer, cyclist, paraglider pilot, backpacker, skydiver, writer, explorer, musician, hitchhiker, digital nomad, and American dissident.

Old Town Mombasa

September 30, 2024

The Ugandan Loop, Part III

September 16, 2024

The Ugandan Loop, Part I

September 13, 2024

The Ugandan Loop, Part II

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